


Never Bet Against a Lovegood When Love Is on the Line

by The_Winter_Straw



Series: Free Fic Raffle Prizes [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bad Pick-Up Lines, Comedy, F/M, Out of Character Draco Malfoy, Romance, Romantic Comedy, Yule Ball (Harry Potter), original character related to canon character, original character related to luna lovegood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-22
Updated: 2020-04-22
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:12:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23780602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Winter_Straw/pseuds/The_Winter_Straw
Summary: "Just crazy enough to work" has always been the Weasley Twins' motto.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Original Character(s)
Series: Free Fic Raffle Prizes [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1687426
Kudos: 13





	Never Bet Against a Lovegood When Love Is on the Line

**Author's Note:**

> Another one with no requirements to list, as I was just asked to write this exact story. I realize that it's very silly and pretty out of character, but that's the danger of letting someone have a no limits request, I suppose. I did do my absolute best to rein things in. This included cutting out several additional superfluous scenes in favor of focusing on the main eve. The requester really enjoyed it, and that's what really matters in the end.
> 
> The cheesy pick up lines were part of the request. I have never got the hang of these myself, so credit for all those that appear in this work must be given to pickuplinesgalore.com's _Harry Potter_ section.
> 
> Winner September 2019: nilla/nilla8594

Deep within the bowels of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry lay the most dreaded classroom known to any Gryffindor of the day: the dungeon. The cramped, dark conditions were enough to discourage Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff students from lingering as well, but the professor made things especially nasty for any member of his rival house. No _sane_ Gryffindor would stay once class was over—but then, the one still fussing over her cauldron that day had never been considered “sane.” Her adopted surname ensured that. 

“Miss Lovegood.” 

The quiet voice would have frightened most her age into freezing. Ally Lovegood, however, did not look up. She was waiting for her Dogbreath Potion to turn a more vibrant shade of purple. Although she was absolutely certain that she’d done everything correctly (after all, she always did), it remained resolutely lavender. 

“Miss Lovegood,” Professor Snape said again, and this time his tone—though it never rose an octave—shifted enough to catch her attention. Her brown eyes made a swift path up to his black ones. He went on, “Class was over ten minutes ago. I suggest that you turn in your work now, unless you want no credit for it whatsoever.” 

Ally drew in a sharp breath. Ten minutes already? That meant she was late! Not just late; she had probably missed her opportunity entirely. She had never, not _once_ , turned in a less-than perfect potion, though. That was the only reason Professor Snape had not taken points from her for loitering. Heart beating wildly inside her ribs, she glanced down at her potion once more— _just_ in time to see it darken to the exact shade of purple she’d been waiting for. 

Hurriedly she scooped some into a waiting container, ran up to Professor Snape’s desk to hand it in, and raced back to her station to clean things up. Ally had all her supplies packed in a trice. Then she was sprinting out of the room with nothing but a, “See you later, Professor,” thrown over her shoulder in farewell. 

The corridors were already empty by the time she climbed up to the more habitable portion of the castle. Of course it was. Lunch wouldn’t last forever, and there were afternoon classes to follow. Already her absence at her own table would be noticed. Ally heaved a sigh as she smoothed her dark, wavy hair back into her headband. So she wouldn’t be seeing him that day, nor probably for the rest of the week. Such meetings were terribly difficult to set up in the first place. Knowing that _she_ had been the one to skip this one made her feel worse than her near-miss in potions already had. 

Not even the multitude of Christmas decorations lining the halls could distract her. The teachers had put on a greater display than in her previous years in honor of the Triwizard Tournament, but what did that matter to Ally during her moment of crisis? The tinsel could not tell her how to apologize for missing her meeting or set up a new one, nor could any of the festively-dressed suits of armor she walked by. Passing notes along with Smokey was out, obviously. His friends would notice the same owl delivering messages so often. Perhaps, she mused, she could use an owl from the Post Office. No one would recognize one of those…but the next Hogsmeade weekend wouldn’t be for quite some time. The winter holidays lay between now and then. Ally wasn’t sure she could wait that long. 

As she reflected upon her thoughts, she felt something long and hard wrap around her waist. She opened her mouth; a single note of protest escaped it. Did the nearest suit of armor do anything to help? Not at all. The long thing tugged her backward tgrough what turned out to be a trick wall hiding a secluded alcove. 

“You’re late,” drawled a familiar voice. 

The long thing turned out to be an arm that belonged to someone she knew very well: Draco Malfoy, Ally’s secret boyfriend of some time. As soon as he released her, she pressed a smiling kiss to his mouth. 

“Sorry,” she said after. “I got caught up in class. My Dogbreath Potion needed more time to brew, and I had to make sure it was _perfect_ before I gave it to Professor Snape, or else—” 

“He would have given you an O anyway. He _likes_ you. Maybe your potion turned out fine, but now we only have a few minutes to ourselves before we need to get to the Great Hall.” 

His mood confused her. Ally blinked up at him. Draco was right, of course—about their lack of time, not about her grades. She got high scores in Potions because she was _good_ at it, not because of favoritism from the instructor. He knew that. Spending their time arguing about her talents or his behavior wasn’t what she wanted to do, though, so she did not contradict him. 

“I’m sorry,” she repeated. 

That time, Draco didn’t answer. He instead pulled her in closer for a much more serious kiss. Only once he was finished did he go on to say: 

“You should be. That’s the last time I’ll get to do that until next term.” 

Suddenly, that seemed like an even longer time than before. He—like most of the fourth years and anyone older—was staying at Hogwarts over the break to enjoy the Yule Ball. It was not as though Draco and Ally would have seen each other otherwise; neither of them could get away from their families long enough for a clandestine meeting in Knockturn Alley. But _now_ she would be leaving with the knowledge that her popular boyfriend would be attending a romantic dance without _her_ anywhere close by, or any cozy memories to remind him of her. 

“What if,” she began slowly. “What if we just _tell_ everyone that we’re seeing each other? Then you can do that as often as you like. You could even invite me to the ball. We could do lots of kissing there.” 

He ran his pale fingers through his blond hair. “Ally, we’ve been over this.” 

“Not for a while.” 

“My answer is the same.” 

“That I’m too _young_ to be dating with you? A Slytherin shouldn’t be seen holding hands with a Gryffindor? Or is it the usual? Your parents wouldn’t approve.” 

Was it so wrong that she sounded bitter? She was adopted. Her color scheme that differed so drastically from her father and sister made pretending otherwise impossible. No one knew what sort of magical blood, if any, ran through Ally’s veins, and even if she had been biologically a Lovegood, well, they were the _Lovegoods_. Draco’s family would never have accepted her anyway. 

“That’s all rubbish and you know it,” he snapped. “Besides, you can’t put this all on _me_. Those _Weasley_ friends of yours wouldn’t approve of you dating _me_ either.” 

“They wouldn’t care.” 

“ _Sure_ they wouldn’t. Those ugly tempers of theirs—” 

“Well, _maybe_ , they’d like you a little more if you didn’t insult them every time you lost a game of Quidditch!” 

The two of them eyed each other, both flushed, both angry. Ally felt tears prickling against the backs of her eyes. All she wanted was to be able to hold her boyfriend’s hand between classes, to kiss him where others could see, to let Pansy Parkinson know beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was already taken. Was that so wrong? Apparently so, because Draco stepped around her and made for the fake wall without further discussion. 

“I’m going to lunch now,” he said. “Make sure you wait a little while before you head there.” 

“Fine,” she said. 

Draco left. He didn’t even kiss her on his way out. Mad as Ally was, she didn’t storm after him; that he wanted the gap meant he planned to see her again despite their spat. She breathed slowly in and out as she counted down several minutes inside her head. That ought to have to given him enough time to get to the Great Hall ahead of her. After not only being late to their tête-à-tête but putting a premature end to it with a well-worn argument she was never going to win, she didn’t want to make things _worse_ by arousing suspicion that they’d been together. 

She herself finally made it to the Great Hall well after he had settled. The ceiling showed steely grey clouds rumbling against each other, and below them Draco was surrounded by his Slytherin friends. A flash of movement from the Ravenclaw table caught her eye: her sister, Luna, waving at her from where she was eating among a little flock of Beauxbatons students. Ally waved in return, then took a seat between her two best friends. 

“And where have _you_ been all this time?” George wanted to know, as she grabbed the nearest bowl and blindly ladled its contents onto her plate. 

“I stayed late in Potions,” she answered shortly. 

“I was not aware that you’d recently obtained a death wish,” said Fred. 

“My potion wasn’t finished. 

“And it took you nearly _thirty minutes_ to get it done?” 

“Tell us the truth, Ally.” George nudged her in the ribs with his elbow. “Was Snape putting the moves on you? Did you finally get yourself a date to the ball?” 

“Very funny. Hilarious. Maybe you two ought to open a joke shop, so you can make _more_ people laugh by suggesting their teacher wants to snog them.” 

They both knew her well enough to read her tone. Though it was unusual for students their age to be close with those of hers, the three of them had been inseparable since her first year, when she’d discovered one of their pranks during its process and, rather than put a stop to it, passed it along to the next girl in her dorm. It had not made Ally many friends among her peers, but had impressed the twins enough to bring her on as a co-conspirator. Those days, her potion skills were highly helpful to them—or her ability to obtain ingredients most students didn’t have access to was. But that didn’t mean she didn’t remind them of her age from time to time. Judging by their shared look, she was doing so now. 

“What’s the matter with you?” asked Fred. 

“If Snape really is molesting you, you can tell us,” George added. 

Ally took a deep breath. It wasn’t _their_ fault she and Draco were fighting. She couldn’t tell them about it either. When she spoke again, she tried to do so in a more friendly manner: “No, Professor Snape is _not_ molesting me, and _no_ I haven’t been asked to the ball.” 

They groaned in unison. 

“Come on, Ally. It’s only three weeks off now,” said George. 

“Why are you so surprised? I’m not old enough to go anyway.” 

“So?” said Fred. 

“So,” Ally shoved a forkful of food in her mouth and swallowed as quickly as she could, “I was never going to get to go. If you guys want me there that badly, why don’t you ask me yourselves?” 

Both of their faces twisted into identical masks of mock horror. 

“Us? Ask _you_?” 

“That’d be like one of us taking _Ginny_.” 

“What would people say?” 

“What would people _think_?” 

“Besides,” said George, “ _we_ already have dates.” 

She laughed around her goblet of pumpkin juice. “Sure you do.” When Fred and George only stared at her, she slowly lowered her drink. “You do? Neither of you had dates yesterday.” 

Grinning, Fred ruffled the top of her head. “These are the sorts of important developments you miss when you’re off serving detention with McGonagall for daydreaming in class.” 

“You’re lying,” she said as she swatted his hand away. 

“No, I’m not. I’m going with Angelina. You can ask her if you don’t believe me.” 

The girl in question was only a few seats away, chatting animatedly with several other members of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. Ally could have easily asked her, which was why she didn’t. Fred would not have suggested her doing so if he didn’t know that Angelina would back him up. She turned to George. 

“Who’re _you_ going with, then?” 

“Never you mind. The important thing is that I _am_ going. I don’t know what we were thinking, expecting her to join us,” he told Fred over her head. “Ally is far too shy to get herself a date anywhere, let alone to a school dance.” 

For the life of her, Ally couldn’t explain why she did what she did next—just that it was only lunchtime and she had had enough of people she _liked_ being snide to her. Professor Snape could dislike that she stayed late. Draco could dislike that she wanted to go public with their relationship. Fred and George could even dislike that she wouldn’t be there to wreak havoc with them at the Yule Ball. But they could _not_ say she couldn’t find someone to take her if she wanted to. She had someone who _would_ take her, if the odds weren’t so stacked against them. 

“For your information, I could get a date with anyone,” she said waspishly. 

The looks on their faces should have been enough of a warning, along with their delighted, “ _Anyone_?” Alas, they were not. She charged on: 

“Anyone at all. Maybe _you_ find the idea of dancing with me disgusting, but I assure you that plenty of other people wouldn’t.” 

“You _really_ think you could waltz up to someone, spout off some cheesy pick up line, and get them to ask you out right then and there?” Fred asked skeptically. 

“It worked for you, didn’t it?” 

“I don’t know,” George said, his tone full of doubt. “I bet you one of our prototype fake wands you don’t even know any pick up lines.” 

“And I bet you all of my Zonko’s products that I do, and that I could use one on anybody you picked to score a date with them.” 

“Deal,” they said. 

“Fine. Who do you want me to ask?” 

The boys looked at each other, then at Ally, then said without hesitation, “Draco Malfoy.” 

Hiding her surprise was impossible; her eyes widened and her mouth fell right open. She had thought they would make her ask Harry Potter, or maybe their brother Ron if they wanted to have a bit of a go at him as well—or even a Durmstrang boy if their aim was to embarrass her! But the _one_ person in the entire _school_ that was off limits? How did they always have such a knack for putting her in the worst positions possible? 

“Ready to cough up your toys?” George held out a palm, grinning all the while. 

Ally rapidly shook her head in an attempt to recover. “No. I just didn’t expect you to pick _him_. Don’t you loathe him?” 

“Of course we loathe him,” said Fred. 

“And he loathes us,” George said. “Which, by the law of association, means he loathes _you_ as well.” 

“Thus, whatever pick up line you choose isn’t going to work.” 

“Tell you what, Ally. If Malfoy’s too scary, I’ll give you an out. Your other option is trying out a cheesy pick up line on _Snape_.” 

She looked over at the Slytherin table. Draco was telling a story and those around him—Crabbe, Goyle, Parkinson, and Zabini—were all laughing along. How could she approach him without shattering their careful but necessary illusion? He would have to turn her down, and she’d lose the bet anyway. Putting herself through the misery didn’t seem worth it. 

“Snape’s so desperate he’d probably accept a date from the Giant Squid,” Fred was saying beside her. 

“Hey, don’t bring the squid down to his level,” said George. 

Abruptly, she got to her feet, which garnered the attention of not only her two friends, but several other nearby Gryffindors as well—Angelina included. Ally could _feel_ their eyes on her back. They did not matter, though. None of the onlookers did. Breaking her gaze away from Draco’s face would put an end to her sudden flare of courage. No way was she going to let Fred and George win this bet without a fight, not after the day she’d had. 

She crossed the Great Hall in silence. By the time she stood in front of her chosen group of Slytherins, some of the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws (and Beauxbatons and Durmstrang students) were watching her progress, too. So was Parkinson, unfortunately. The pug-faced girl was the first to greet Ally upon her arrival: 

“What do _you_ want Lovegood? Did the freak Gryffindors kick you out for being too freaky? You won’t find any sympathy here.” 

No glance was spared her, nor was an answer. Draco, who was sitting right next to Parkinson, said nothing. A guarded look crept into his grey eyes. Ally knew that she was pushing things already. What she was about to do was incredibly reckless, but maybe if he’d just tried to listen to her earlier, she wouldn’t have been full enough of righteous indignation to try something this reckless out. She took an enormous gulp of air in preparation, then said: 

“Is that a wand in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?” 

The effect this line had on the rest of the Slytherins was instantaneous. They erupted into sniggers and boos and insults thrown her way. None of what the rest of them had to say meant a thing to Ally. She remained staring right at Draco. He’d gone rather pink at her question, but otherwise hadn’t reacted at all. 

“Excuse me?” he asked coldly. 

Ally tried again: “If you were a dementor, I’d become a criminal just to get your kiss.” 

“Is this what you and your little pals consider a joke? Go back to your table before I stop being amused.” 

“I know we’re not in Professor Flitwick’s class, but you’re still charming.” 

“I thought I told you to go away.” 

“Did you survive the Avada Kedavra curse? Because you’re drop-dead gorgeous.” 

While Draco had gone an impressive shade of Chinese Fireball, Parkinson had gone white with fury. Ally suspected that only the watching professors were preventing her from being cursed into slime. 

“Didn’t you _hear_ Draco, Lovegood?” Parkinson demanded. “He told you to go away.” 

Ally _had_ heard him. She wasn’t deaf or stupid, just done sneaking around. The quaffle was in Draco’s pitch. He could send her away. If he did, though, he would be sending her away forever. If she was good enough for him to kiss in secret rooms, she was good for him to take to a dance. Was he going to listen to her now? Or another girl that got to be around him in front of other people and thought that meant she owned him? 

Her and Draco's eyes were locked. Ally leaned toward him so that their faces were level even though she was standing. This was it: his last chance. 

“Are you using the Confundus charm,” she said, “or are you just naturally mind-blowing?” 

“Draco! _Do_ something!” Parkinson whined. 

Draco did. He stood up, so fast that Ally had to jump backwards to avoid being banged into. A malicious light danced in Parkinson’s eyes. For the second time that day, Ally’s heartbeat quickened. It sped up all the more when he reached out to pull her closer. Then he said, loudly enough for the whole hall to hear: 

“You must be a snitch, because I’ve been Seeking you my whole life.” 

Ally’s surprised gasp was swallowed up in a kiss. All around them, people reacted at a much greater scale than the Slytherins had earlier. Students hooted, hollered, and wolf-whistled all around them. When Draco pulled away from her, she saw that only his group of friends remained too stunned to speak. Parkinson in particular looked so frozen from shock that she might have been mistaken for being petrified. 

“Well, that’s _one_ way of exposing our relationship to everyone,” Draco said ruefully. His eyes narrowed on Ally’s face. “You _owe_ me for this.” 

“Oh yeah? What do I owe you?” she asked with a smirk. 

“A date to the Yule Ball. If you want to go public so badly…” 

“Okay!” 

Perhaps she acquiesced a little _too_ quickly, but her head was spinning far too hard for her to think about what her eagerness might tell their onlookers. _Draco Malfoy_ had just kissed her in front of the entire school! Her _boyfriend_ had just declared to everyone, student and staff member alike, that she was his! She was going to the Yule Ball, not as a pity date with one of her friends, but with a guy she actually wanted to be with. Even if said boy _did_ look a little put out at the moment, they were public at last. He sat back down with the tiniest of winks. 

Parkinson had tears in her eyes. “Draco—but—what do you _mean_ that _she_ owes you a date to the dance?” 

Draco merely buttered a slice of bread with a distinct air of apathy. “I meant that I’m taking Ally to the Yule Ball. She’s my girlfriend. But if you still need a date, Pansy, Goyle doesn’t have anyone to go with yet.” 

A wicked smile worked its way across Ally’s face as she spun around and practically skipped back to the Gryffindor table. Normally she abhorred being looked at by so many people, but all the watching eyes that afternoon made her feel as though she were walking on air. And to think that she’d been about to write the entire day off as a loss! 

“I expect that wand to be in my possession by the end of the day, boys,” she said loftily, taking her seat. 

“And _I_ expect my five galleons by then, too, Fred,” George put in. 

“Five galleons?” Ally echoed. “Why does Fred owe you five galleons?” 

“Because _we_ had a little bet going as well. I thought you were too good for a slimy little git like Malfoy, but apparently I was wrong.” Fred begrudgingly passed five gold coins to his twin. Too happy to scold either of them for insulting Draco like that, Ally simply moved to the next matter at hand: 

“How did you know I was seeing him?” 

George rolled his eyes. “ _Please_. We might have given Harry our map last year, but you’re still looking at the two people who know this castle better than anyone. You really think you can have a snogging session once a week without one of us stumbling on it?” He batted his eyelashes, putting on a falsetto voice when he went on, “Oh, _Draco_! Draco! I _love_ you, Draco!” 

Ally whacked him over the head, which only caused him to grin. 

“But, listen, Ally, you’re not planning on spending the whole ball with _him_ , are you? George and I have plans that would really work better with the three of us, and we can’t manage that if you’re staring dreamily into Malfoy's eyes all night.” 

Luckily, Ally was spared having to answer. She had crammed the last of her meal into her mouth and was thus quite incapable of speaking. If she didn’t leave right away, she would be late for Herbology. One last wave preceded her standing and heading for the exit. That didn’t stop Fred and George from calling after her, though. 

She left without another word, knowing that this was really only a start. Openly dating Draco wouldn’t be easy—but she was willing to make it work. Maybe if she spent a little time with all three of them, they would start to get along. Then Ally Lovegood would never have to hide a part of herself from people she loved again. On second thought, that sort of thinking was exactly what made people question her sanity to begin with.


End file.
